At the End of the Pier – Feb. 11

At The End of the Pier

by Shane Jesse Christmass

…Ah oh boy, forget that story, that one I was just in the middle of, it’s not important, this one is better, believe me, this one’s about a pier, a pier I go to every weekend. I peddle down to it, to check out what’s happening, scoop in low, y’know it’s a boardwalk, got some shops out the end of it.

That boardwalk, what miseries, ramshackle and rusted metal, water-sopped wood, sea spray, yellow-flaked newspapers, well-worn headlines, osprey, seagull… How does one arrive at such places? There are a lot, a lot of creeps who lived around there. It smells like smooth rhodium or turpentine, but this time I’m gonna tell you about, m shirt didn’t smell like turpentine, it was steamed-in with the smell of vinegar from the shop.

This is all true, a true story. The wind raked the autumn leaves down the footpath, that kinda thing. I thought, “What hour is this? Midday? Don’t be too concerned by all that. You’ve been given enough hours in your life already.” Seriously that’s the kinda of stuff I thought. But back to this, are you listening? I caught my reflection in the shopfront y‘hear. Now at that time of my life, my reflection was an expression that dissolved into what I overheard, y’know fog-lamped ships and all that.

But back to the pier, yes, yes, oh boy, okay I found myself out the front of an old shop. Cigarette smoke ate in my ears. The clothes on the mannequin were pygmy, y’know, gnaw, gnaw, gnaw! The hair on the mannequin had droning, neatly-done, blonde tips. She was picked up from a rubbish bin, flushed from the toilet sky, weak-wig, babbled, pay attention please, you’re not listening, she was weak-wigged!

I pushed the door, walked in. The mannequin scared me, y’know all clown-like, boo, ha ha, yeah boo! I walked to the books, lots of magazines, cookbooks; they filled the space everyone forgot, that kinda thing. The bookshelf hogged me; something was flicking through the cold walls. It exhaled a salty and shallow breath, moist breath, y’know really smelly and all.

I’ll tell you about the weather, the weather was cold, I thought about mittens y’know, mittens of all things, mittens, mittens at the end of the pier! The old man behind the counter looked agitated, not with me, but with the life he had to encounter everyday, y’know the blushing people. A volunteer came up to him and advised him to lift his head. What did that mean? Lift your head? You ever been told to lift your head, yeah, no me either.

Anyway it started to rain lightly. The rain had swords to the shower that flung peculiarities all over the road. Y’know, say that word real slowly, pe…cul…i…ar…ities, peculiarities, what do they mean? But back to the rain, the rain was little. It moved like arthritic hands in the morning, spasmed, bloodless, encroaching on pain, ‘know about that stuff, pain, y’know about that stuff, you do know about that stuff.

But it’s the shop on the pier y’hear that I’m concerned with here now, why the hell am I in a shop at the end of a pier? So I walked over to a plastic tub and y’know what was in the tub? Gloves, gloves man, hilarious, that kinda stuff! I picked up a pair of brown gloves. I was all sensing towards, here’s the real kicker, I was all sensing towards … something special. I held the gloves, then transcended.

Now here’s the reason I stopped the previous story, this is the story to concern ourselves with here, if this life is routine then get up, get a delicate remedy … get delicate and listen to life, a life characterised by bemused goings on with the anguish … the calamity … against this ecstatic drink, then do something, don’t sit here all day listening to my stories! Get up oh boy get up!

Anyway, back to the story, you like this story don’t you, so yes, yes where were we, oh yes, boy oh boy oh boy, I slipped the right glove onto my right hand. That thing was so tight, y’know constrictive, it was itchy, I had to remove it. It was difficult.

Suddenly, oh yes, oh boy, listen to this, sunlight flittered in from the shopfront. I noticed the people walk up and down the road. They had this wandering nothingness; like they’d be refused at the gate of kind nature, like what sort of misery is that?

Oh yes, yes, the gloves! I started grabbing gloves. Trying them on, different sizes, odd colours, orange … blue … red … purple … hazy grape. I tried to stir up crowned symbolism, y’know like a heavenly king, that shit follows me, fills me with knowledge, darkens my own breath, it’s a real heavy thing to have to deal with, it’s hilarious. There are places like these processes, nothing thoughts, shit man, wake up, the story’s not over, sleep on your own time!

You can’t sleep now, I’m just getting to the bit where I tell you how I don’t understand hypothetical understanding and how I run with clothes of joy, alphabet characters, nothing more than chewing gum, do you follow that? Well follow this; I was, at this particular time, in this particular story, terribly bored. I noticed a girl walk in. I grabbed rest from the light coming from the closing door; I can show you how to do that as well later!

I looked at her as she dragged the dew, the lazy well behind. What sort of pier is this? I mean seriously. The third time I looked at her, she entered abandoned, by the making of the grandiose, the illusory anthology that’s within her. She walked to the clothes rack, started rifling through the jackets, rifling through he jackets for God’s sakes, who ever heard of such a thing! I put the last pair of gloves on, y’hear me, the walk back along the pier is long, it’s cold out. They fitted well, a touch too big, my hands swam in them, they felt comfortable. I looked over at the girl, now y’wanna know what happened now yes, yes, oh boy oh boy! I cut the moment, a thunder to an interior way. She left. I was wearing the gloves.

Now here’s the real kicker of the story, the real point about it all, I didn’t adore that girl, she just closed the door behind her, walked back down the pier. Was I ever realisable? You start to tell me!

I was late and had to hurry to another shop to purchase tobacco. I paid for the gloves and departed. He walked down to the tobacco shop, tobacco shops back on the land, none of this boardwalk business, it was icy out, icy out, you hear that, icy out!

Okay, so you’ve waited, here’s what I want to say to you, never let me lose what I am … nor the calm hope, nor the life illuminated, enhanced, in its ignoble form. I’m happy with the gloves. I purchased my tobacco. Arrange me in the whole earth thereof remaining, as dawn was before me, that kinda thing, dawn is before me! Ha ha dawn get it! I declined to go y’hear? I rolled and then lit a smoke. I inhaled, inhaled, at the end of a pier. I was clothed in fur, the uterine fur of a wolf, a wolf, in this weather, a wolf. Oh boy oh boy, that’s what happened at the end of the pier. Whoop what a story! A wolf seriously, a wolf!